Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1887-04-27
CHAPTER XIV.
JOY there, misery here

Joy there, misery herel
Lady Valworth pushes back the por-
there, and with slow and heavy tread
advances to where the motionless figure
is seated upon chair, his head buried
on the arms that are lying upon the table.
"Granitn' whispers she tremulously.
He starts to his feet with an oath, and
turns stormy face to hers.
."What, cannot I be left alone even
now? What brings you herc' Is there
no rcst-no peace?"
''It Is only I, my dear-your mother!'
Her voice breaks. "Oh, my child! my
son! my larlngl 1t is your mother, dear
your own mother! Did you think any
thing could make any difference to me?"
The poor woman filings herself on the
ground beside him and encircles him with
her arms ~ knew you were alone" she
goes on eagerly. 81 would have come
sooner, but IL was not very well. The
moment I could, however, came to you.
I could not bear to picture you sitting
here all by yourself, and perhaps believ-
ing your poor mother was holding alOof. "
"You had done better had you so held
yourself"
"Oh, Granit do not so speak to mel
Do not repulse me!'' She is still kneeling
beside him, trying do draw his dark,
sullen face to look ut herr and now she
takes his hand and holds it in fondling
fashion against her bosom. He is once
more her child, her boy, her little one; in
trouble and disgrace-in direst grief-and
to whom then should he come but to his
mother? "My darling, why did you not
trust me?" she says in u low, painful whis-
per. ~ would have given them to you.
/ could have managed in some way.
Yes-I would have given them"
"They were not yours to give'-this
allusion to the stolen diamonds hardens
his heart again, though not toward her
"thcy belonged to Sir Thomas. How
ever''-breaking off savagely and drag
ging his hand roughly out of hers-'it is
too late to dis uss what is over and done.
If you have come here to maunder about
my crimes, I warn you will have none
of it,"
"No, no, dear; not another word shall
be said" Going closer to him she tries
to press him into chair. "Sit down now
and let us talk of your plans," she whis-
pers soothingly.
"Plunss" He glances ut her vaguely,
as though he hardly understands; plainly
he has not been listening. Then sudden
ly his face flushcs; the veins swell upon
his temples. "Wherc is she?" he cries in
vehement tone.
"Shes Millicent'
"Pshaw! No. She who betrayed me;
that fair devil, Nadine"
s'She is down stairs. She has been very
ILL.," says the mother trembling.
"Did hurt her? Did she feel? Did she
suffer-" His tone is eXultant, yet there
is a fierce agony in it. II hope SO.
Great heavens! how that girl lied to me,
though her lips uttered no falsehood.
She gave herself to me: she swore she
would marry ME, caring for that other all
the time. Did you mark how she shrunk
md covered away from me? How she
paled, and glanced at HE us though perdi-
ton lay in the sight of mc:'
He is gluncng over his mothers shoul-
der toward the opposite wall. His eyes
arc dark and wild; lie is gazing ut some
thing. That past scene in the library IS
again before him-is again being enacted
brought to light by his disordered fancy
"Granit, think of something else" i'm
plorcs his mother, in Il frightened man.
ner. His voice, his gestures, terrify her.
"From HE she shrunk-to turn to him!
How her eye lit as she saw him! TO him
she cried for protection from me! She
held out her arms to him! She clung to
him"' His breath is coming in painful
gasps. .'There was alteration in the
glance she directed at him. 10 gain such
u glance would have died. Well!' he
stretches out his arms and then he clasps
his head, "because Of such Il glance
have died. She has slain mer'